


Kill It

by GEGabriels



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Gen, M/M, Not Proofread probably has a bunch of spelling mistakes lol, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEGabriels/pseuds/GEGabriels
Summary: Grantaire wasn’t dead… Or, they weren’t sure. But he had been missing since their last run through the city, when a large hoard of Biters had separated them. Grantaire had taken off into the woods, and that was the last they had seen of him. Enjolras was desperate to find his partner, and Combeferre was doing his best to support him.
Relationships: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre & Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Combeferre & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Kill It

“Alright, Marius, stay behind with your baby, Cosette, go with Feuilly. Couf, Ferre, you’re together,” Enjolras listed the pairs off of the top of his head, Combeferre frowning, and unsheathing his sword. He had actually found the sword in a museum. It had been Joly… Dear Joly’s idea to check the museum for any weapons. 

“Enjolras, all of us going out are in pairings, except for you,” Combeferre said. Enjolras gave Combeferre a tight smile,

“I have a different goal than the rest of you. You’re looking for supplies, I’m looking for Grantaire.” Combeferre nodded, as Enjolras began going over the rules, like he did everytime before they split up. Combeferre already knew them by heart, and instead zoned out, staring at the rest of their broken little group. All that was left. Courfeyrac was standing a little ways away from the group, while scanning their surroundings, his axe poised in attack position, as he prepared for any threat that could possibly befall the group in the next few minutes. Cosette and Marius were cooing over their six-month-old son, while Feuilly was the only one actually paying attention to Enjolras. Grantaire’s absence stuck out like a sore thumb. They had been without him for two days, and Combeferre already missed his deep analytical thoughts that he usually offered before the group split up. 

Grantaire wasn’t dead… Or, they weren’t sure. But he had been missing since their last run through the city, when a large hoard of Biters had separated them. Grantaire had taken off into the woods, and that was the last they had seen of him. Enjolras was desperate to find his partner, and Combeferre was doing his best to support him. 

“Alright,” Enjolras said, clapping Combeferre’s shoulder, “let’s go.” Combeferre smiled, placing his hand on Enjolras’ cheek, before heading off with Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac walked ahead of Combeferre, looking around for any Biters. 

“What do we have to get, again?” Courfeyrac finally asked, Combeferre thinking,

“Batteries, for the flashlights, food, of course, and any weapons, as always.” Courfeyrac nodded, and the pair were silent, for a second, before Courfeyrac broke it,

“Do yah think E will be able to manage without R?” Combeferre gave Courfeyrac a stern look, as they passed a few dead bodies on the streets, Combeferre groaning, as he accidentally stepped on one, dirty blood pooling out onto his shoe. 

“We don’t know that Grantaire’s dead yet, Courfeyrac.” Courfeyrac shrugged, frowning up at the body of a man, which was hanging from the ground, pinned to the wall of a building with a sword,

“Who they hay would just leave their sword there?” He gave it a confused look, before the body started moving. 

“Dang, it’s still going,” Combeferre said, Courfeyrac stabbing it in the head, before grinning,

“Not anymore.” They continued walking throughout the city, Combeferre stopping to look at a few posters that were hung up on street light poles before the world went to sh*t. 

_Call Janice-Margaret Jones for babysitting. Ten bucks per hour… Number below…_

_Missing dog. Lyndon. Black and fluffy. If found please call…_

And so forth. Courfeyrac turned around, seeing that Combeferre had stopped,

“C’mon, Ferrrrrrre, we haven’t all day,” he said, tugging Combeferre away by the arm. Combeferre grinned at him,

“When did you become the responsible one?” He teased, Courfeyrac sticking his tongue out at Combeferre to make a case for his irresponsibleness. Combeferre laughed, before his expression darkened,

“If Grantaire is… Dead, Enjolras will learn to live without him. Just like we had to.” Courfeyrac dropped Combeferre’s gaze, instead looking down at the ground. Perhaps remembering Jehan. Jehan and Joly had battled fever for a week each, before succumbing. Comebeferre could still picture Eponine… Still feel her sweet lips against his. Montparnasse had caught her and Azelma one day while they were out scavenging. The group had found the bodies later. Bahorel had been bitten, and Feuilly had put him down, sobbing as he did so. Little Gavroche had stumbled into camp, a bite mark on his shoulder, and Grantaire had put the boy down before he could die and reanimate. Pressed a gun to the temple of the child who he had come to think of as his own son. And shot. Bossuet and Musichetta had vanished a month ago, after a supply run. They’d never found any bodies, but as Bossuet and Musichetta had never been spotted since, their deaths were assumed. Each loss had numbed him, and each loss had felt like he was losing a limb. But he was still alive. And he had Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Cosette, the baby, and Marius. And that was all that mattered. Everyday was a struggle for survival. And everyday he marveled over the simple fact that he was still alive.

“This store looks good,” Courfeyrac said, and Combeferre nodded, tugging open the door to the abandoned store. Courfeyrac made short work of the Biters that were standing behind the store counter, while Combeferre quickly collected a handheld shopping basket, scanning through the food selection, and grabbing whatever wasn’t expired already, and three packs of batteries. Courfeyrac scrounged up a few knives, and they hurried out of the store, Combeferre handing the basket to Courfeyrac, and slaying a Biter who had wandered out onto the streets from wherever. Courfeyrac and Combeferre headed back to the designated meeting place, at the edge of the city, Marius waiting for them, bouncing his son on his hip.

“You two are the first back,” he greeted, Combeferre nodding, and taking guard, so that Courfeyrac could collapse against the ground, catching his breath. A few minutes later, Cosette and Feuilly returned, both out of breath as well, and covered in scratches. 

“Those aren’t -” Combeferre started, Cosette shaking her head,

“No, they’re not Biter scratches, they’re thorn scratches,” she said. Feuilly nodded,

“Mhm, ran into a whole bunch of Biters while we were exiting our store, had to take off to the woods to lose 'em’,” Feuilly said, dropping the supplies he and Cosette had collected on the ground, while Cosette took her baby from her boyfriend’s arms.

“Now we’re just waiting for Enjolras,” Combeferrre said. Everyone did so, glad for the few minutes they got to rest. Until those few minutes turned into ten. And ten turned into twenty. 

“He might have just had a little bit of trouble?” Courfeyrac hopefully suggested, Combeferre shaking his head, which was swimming. Enjolras had to come back. He would. Because he had to. 

“Wait!” Cosette suddenly exclaimed, “remember how we saw the Patron Minette symbol on the pole?!” Feuilly gasped,

“Oh my, yes, we thought they had just already passed through, but what if they took E?!” Everybody groaned. The Patron Minnette and the Les Amis had been in conflict ever since the beginning of the apocalypse, ever since the Patron Minette had tried to steal from the Les Amis, and the Les Amis had killed four of their members in return. Things had sort of snowballed from there, resulting in Eponine and Azelma’s, both of who actually used to be part of the Patron Minette before joining the Les Amis, demise. Neither group could seem to lose the other, though they would all very much like to, and they kept running into each other, butting heads every single time. Kidnapping Enjolras would not be anywhere near the worst thing the Patron Minette had ever done. 

“We have to go find him!” Combeferre exclaimed, Feuilly shaking his head,

“We can’t, Ferre, it’s nearing dark, and you know how the Biters get at night… We can’t go through the city until tomorrow.” Combeferre let out a frustrated sigh,

“Alright,” he agreed, sitting down on a rock, and staring at the ground. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost Enjolras. His best friend, and honorary little brother. Their group leader. 

The apocalypse had seemingly come overnight. There had been a few reports of people going crazy in the news, but they were never in the headlines, and everyone had just always assumed that it was another, “Florida man,” thing. And then over a span of two days, only one week after Christmas, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras’s town had been overrun. Combeferre had fled with the younger men four days after the town fell to the Biters. He had met all of his other friends along the way. They had been nomadically living since then, though their numbers were currently dwindling.

The group woke up early the next day, and started the journey through the city, checking out any place that seemed large enough to harbor a rival group. Finally, once they reached the middle of the city, they heard voices from under a bridge. The Les Amis quickly ambushed the Patron Minette, Combeferre holding his sword to Montparnasse’s throat, while the other three held the rest of the group at bay. Even though Cosette was holding the baby while fighting, he wasn’t in danger. While most morals had gone out the window the minute people started coming back from the dead and biting others, even for the Les Amis, the Patron Minette was respectable enough to not kill infants. 

“Where is he?!” Combeferre demanded, Montparnasse blinking,

“Okay, for once, I actually have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man replied, Combeferre gritting his teeth,

“You know what we’re talking about. Where are you keeping Enjolras?!” Montparnasse gave the Les Amis a confused look, the rest of Patron Minette exchanging glances and shrugging,

“Blondie? He ain’t here, bozo. Saw him going out into the woods yesterday, though. Looked like he was out to kill somethin’.” Combeferre frowned,

“Oh… My apologies,” he removed the sword from in front of Montparnasse’s throat. Montparnasse rubbed at the skin the blade had previously been pressed against,

“Yes, whatever, just leave us alone. Please.” The Les Amis hurried out from under the bridge, heading towards the woods. 

“Maybe he’s still looking for R. You know how Enjy is when he sets his mind to something,” Courfeyrac said, Combeferre bobbing his head,

“Yes. That seems reasonable.” They picked their way through the woods, not caring if sticks and tall grass brushed up against their legs, like they used to, before the Biters came. Their worst fear back then when hiking through the woods was that maybe a tick would bite them. Ticks weren’t really relevant, and Combeferre was fairly sure that he already had Lymes Disease anyways. Also, everyone’s intestines were chock-full of parasites. That stuff didn’t really matter anymore, and everyone had just gotten used to always pushing through and living with constant fevers, aches, infected cuts, and stomach pain. It was just part of life, now. Sometimes Combeferre felt they were more animal than human, at this point. 

“Look!” Marius yelled, pointing to the top of a hill that had a few trees on it, “it’s Enjolras, and he’s found Grantaire!” Combeferre looked up, and let out a sigh of relief, as he saw the two familiar figures of Enjolras and Grantaire. Feuilly suddenly pulled Marius back before he could run to them,

“Oh, god,” Feuilly choked out, Cosette pressing her hands to her mouth,

“Enjolras didn’t find Grantaire,” she whispered, “Grantaire found him.” And then, Combeferre took in the stagger in the two’s steps, as they slowly moved closer to the group. Enjolras and Grantaire would have run to embrace them, normally. But they didn’t. They moved at a snail's place, their posture slumped. And Combeferre knew what happened, as soon as he saw the bite mark on Enjolras’ shoulder, and the dried blood on Grantaire’s chin. Suddenly, he ran forward, and before he knew what he was doing, his sword was embedded into Grantaire’s head, and the bitten man collapsed, truly gone. And Combeferre was now only feet away from Enjolras. His baby brother. The man who had always had his back. His driving force. Enjolras’ body moved towards him, and it still looked like Enjolras, other than the glazed eyes, and bitten shoulder. Enjolras’ blue eyes stared into Combeferre’s soul, and it didn’t blink, as it inched closer to him.

“COMBEFERRE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! KILL IT!” Feuilly screamed, Combeferre drawing his sword, stopping it just inches away from Enjolras’ head. Enjolras’ moaned, moving itself closer, and reaching out, trying to touch Combeferre. Scratch him, or bite him. Or eat him. 

“Combeferre, it’s not him, he’s dead, KILL IT!” Feuilly yelled. Combeferre poised himself in the perfect position drawing his sword over his head, and staring into the creature’s blue eyes. Combeferre knew it was no longer Enjolras. Enjolras had died, around a day ago, probably. Had he been all alone? Had he been scared? How had his body found Grantaire’s, after he most likely ran from it once he was bitten? Combeferre hadn’t been there for him. Combeferre hadn’t been there to help him. Had Combeferre failed too?

“COMBEFERRE KILL IT!” Combeferre slammed the sword down, cracking open the skull of the body of the man he had once loved the most. Enjolras’ blood spilled out onto his shoes, staining them even redder than they previously were. Some of it leaked down into his socks, and his shoes squished from the liquid, as he took a step backwards, staring, before collapsing on his knees, and sobbing into Enjolras’ unmoving chest. He was broken. And would never be whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think :D.


End file.
